


The Chamber of Secrets

by Robot_From_The_Future



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dubious Consent, M/M, Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-18
Updated: 2017-03-18
Packaged: 2018-10-07 10:46:55
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,999
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10358682
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Robot_From_The_Future/pseuds/Robot_From_The_Future
Summary: All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.Credit to the film The Fly, to which some aspects of plot belong.





	

**Author's Note:**

> All canon character, plots, and situations from the Harry Potter series belong to JK Rowling. I am not profiting from this work.
> 
> Credit to the film The Fly, to which some aspects of plot belong.

 “I don’t know where. All I can tell you is that he’s gone. We fought and he left,” Godric said heavily. His words felt leaden, dropping out of his mouth to land with a clang in the air that felt thick with recrimination and suspicion. But if they were lead, he was not the lighter for having expelled them from his body, rather the more he spoke, the more he felt their weight pressing down on him.  

  
Rowena Ravenclaw regarded him through her strange pale eyes that saw so much, taking in the blood that flowed from his temple, to disappear into his beard, the way he leaned on his sword. She couldn’t fail to spot the scorch marks across the back of his wand hand, or the rip in the sleeve of his robes, which were dirty and crumpled, “We can see that.” 

  
Helga wrung her plump hands anxiously, half out of her chair to look out of the window, as though he might be visible departing the castle along the narrow path to Hogsmeade, “Will he come back? Perhaps he could be persuaded if I -” 

  
“Salazar has passed to a place where we can no longer reach him,” Godric cut her off with a wave of his hand. 

  
“What do you mean?” only the slightest of tremors in Helga’s voice revealed her fear of the answer. 

  
“Merely that he has changed. Our friend is gone forever. And none of us will seek him out, for he has betrayed us,” the gravity in his words reverberated around the stone room and he emphasised them by tapping the point of his sword against the stone flags. 

  
Rowena closed her eyes pressed her fingertips to her temples, a pose that Godric had noticed she affected when she was trying to see through confusion and form her own opinion. Whether she was consciously trying to press her diadem closer to her brain, or it was merely a form of comfort, he wasn’t sure. He held his breath, awaiting her pronouncement. 

  
“It seems that Godric is correct and Salazar has deserted us. We must try to repair the damage we have done with our fighting,” she nodded curtly as though she felt her words placed finality on the event. 

  
Godric sank down into a chair and removed his wand from his pocket to heal his wounds. Lion-like, some people called him. Otherwise the villagers might call, “there goes Godric, like a great a bear,” and with his huge frame, his great mane of russet hair, his enormous strength, it was easy to see why. But right then, he felt small, like the events of the morning had lessened him somehow. He winced as he pulled a fragment of glass out of his shin and pressed his wand to the flesh to stem the crimson trickle that seeped, almost black, onto his robes. He could practically feel the waves of anxiety rolling off Helga, vibrating and shimmering through the air as sure as magic. She hovered over her chair still, in an odd half crouch, trying to decide whether to sit down and continue her knitting, or break Rowena’s unspoken closing of the matter. 

  
Eventually she decided, her mouth a thin line of unhappiness, “But I just think –“ 

  
“It is done!” Gryffindor roared, “And I, for one, am glad of it. The pupils – all of the pupils – are once again safe from the danger that he posed.” 

  
“Then so it must be,” she sighed, at last sinking back into her seat. Godric didn’t move, his shaggy head bowed in his hands, until long after the rhythmic click of the needles resumed. 

 

* * *

  
Salazar Slytherin patrolled the boundaries of his one time refuge now turned prison, knocking over bookshelves for parchments to spoil in the mud, reducing furniture to kindling in his rage as he glided past. He cared little, for what use were furniture and books to him now? Belongings paled into insignificance next to his need for vengeance. The aching in his very being to destroy Godric Gryffindor, the man who had left him wandless, powerless, in the darkness was all consuming.

 

But Salazar Slytherin was nothing if not patient. He would wait, and one day, it would be his time to kill. To rip…tear…kill. 

 

* * *

  
Salazar watched Godric descend into his personal chamber, his heart swelling with fondness for his dear friend. He seemed out of place here, his red and gold tones gaudy amongst the silver and emerald tapestries and fine dark wood furniture.

Godric brushed his hands together to remove the dirt they had accumulated on the climb down, “This had better be good Salazar. I’m not as young as I used to be. Clambering down a well like an urchin just to reach your chambers may be an easy task for a monkey like yourself but it is no mean feat for me.” 

  
“Nonsense Godric my dear, you’re in the prime of your life. Just look at that fine mane of hair. The lion himself personified.” 

  
Salazar laid his hand gently on the rough fabric of the cloak at Godric’s shoulder, and although he was nearly a head shorter than him, led him easily to an ornately carved mirror that rested against the stone wall. It sat in a shadowy spot where moss greenly furred the wall but its golden frame seemed to glow with a light of its own and the image it reflected in the glass was never shaded.

  
 “Perhaps there is a little vanity in the animals we chose to represent us for our houses,” Godric conceded, nodding towards the acid green snake draped contentedly over the fur collar of Salazar’s robes. Salazar just smiled, and Godric watched as his arms wrapped around him from behind, one to play with the tassels of his belt, one to twine upwards into the hair at his nape. 

  
“I do wish you’d tell me what you saw in the mirror – it’s most unfair to keep such a secret from your dear friend.” Salazar’s voice sounded from the other side of the room, rather than in his ear, even though Godric could see him leaning close enough into him that his lips were almost touching him. It shocked him out of the trance he had fallen into. Salazar had shown him the mirror before and he feared it as much as he marvelled at it. It was a tricksy thing that somehow showed that which wasn’t quite true but was so tantalisingly close, close enough that Godric gasped awake in the night with the wanting of it. He knew he must never speak of what he saw there to Salazar, that he would be revolted with the unnatural acts that Godric fantasised about, alone in his chamber at night. 

  
“But this is what I wanted to show you,” Salazar gestured dramatically to a pair of ornately carved, strangely angled cabinets, his embroidered sleeves slipping down to reveal pale forearms, “An invention of my own design.” 

  
“You are branching out into furniture design? They are handsome, I’ll warrant you that,” Godric grinned, running his hand over the rich decorations, feeling the magic woven into their fibres.

“Hush friend, for you will regret your mocking when I demonstrate their purpose,”  Salazar plucked an apple from a bowl piled with them and placed it into one of the cabinets before shutting the door, his forehead almost touching the dark wood as he whispered an incantation, before opening the cabinet again with a flourish. 

  
Godric looked nonplussed, “You have vanished the apple. It is a simple thing – I can do it myself, even without the aid of a cupboard,” he flicked his wand lazily over the fruit bowl, reducing the number of shiny green apples by half. 

  
“Be patient!” Salazar opened the second cabinet, revealing the apple. 

  
“I still fail to see.” 

  
Salazar span to face him, sending his robes whirling about his feet, his black eyes flashing impatiently, “Well of course you do, you great oaf. And with a head as wooden as yours I shouldn’t be surprised that ideas need hammering into it.” 

  
Godric just laughed and summoned the apple to himself, taking a hearty crunching bite out of it, “Enlighten me.” 

  
Salazar then peeled the snake from around his neck and stretched his hand out, allowing it to slither into the cabinet. Once more he closed the door and once more he murmured the spell. Once more he re-opened the cabinet and revealed that its contents had disappeared. Then he strode back to the other cabinet and retrieved his familiar, who slid gratefully back round his neck. 

  
“I have found a way to transport living beings from one place to another!” he announced with such triumph that Godric felt sorely tempted to issue a fanfare from his wand, yet he was still confused at the reason for Salazar’s celebrations. 

“Isn’t that what we use apparition, or brooms for?” 

“Some are not able to fly or stomach apparitions. Some need a place to hide…” Salazar looked sorrowful and Godric knew he was remembering his mother, who in times of stress, found her magic deserted her. It was hereditary, apparently, although it had never seemed to affect Salazar. A muggle neighbour had seen her charming her cow back to health after it had contracted the pox and had gathered an angry mob to descend on her, complete with flaming torches and pitchforks. Terrified, and unable to do anything to defend herself, her home had been burned to the ground with her inside. Salazar had told him once whilst in his cups with mead what he had witnessed, as a wide eyed child, paralysed with terror, hiding in the cornfield behind the house. 

  
“A defence against the witch hunts?” 

  
Salazar’s face hardened and he spat out his words, “Against the filthy muggles and their need to destroy anything that they don’t understand.” 

  
“Come Salazar, you know your views on muggles aren't shared by the rest of us. Would it work for humans? Do you want me to try?” 

  
“Bless you and the foolhardiness that others call bravery, but I shall make the inaugural crossing and you shall bear witness to it.” He clambered eagerly into the cabinet and shut the door in on himself. 

  
Godric felt the wave of magic wash through the air and heard a heavy thump in the previously unoccupied cabinet. After a moment it became apparent that his friend was not capable of exiting, and Godric rushed to pull the door open, allowing Salazar to tumble out. 

  
“Are you well?” he took his arm and helped him to his feet when he was able, albeit shakily, to stand. 

  
“I am not certain… I feel a little strange,” he collapsed into an upholstered armchair, mopping his pallid brow with a trembling hand, his breathing beleagured. Tentatively he patted his robes, “Where is Kyra? The snake! Is she still in the cabinet?” 

  
Godric checked one and then the other, shaking his head solemnly. He wondered if he ought to start a search of the chamber, for he knew Salazar would be most upset at the loss of the snake. Perhaps it had simply slithered out of a knot in the wood. Yet he could see the interior of the cabinets to be quite sound. He cast his gaze unsurely about the dirt floor for the creature. 

  
“A mistake perhaps,” Salazar pressed his long fingers to his lips, which appeared quite bloodless, “I must have miscalculated.” 

  
Godric dropped to his knees beside his friend, to grasp his arm firmly, “You’re lucky to be alive!” he exclaimed, giving the smaller man a shake, “Promise me that you won’t get back into that cabinet again!” 

  
“I promise not to, until I am sure that they are safe,” agreed Salazar gravely, as his eyes narrowed towards the cabinets, deep in thought. 

 

* * *

  
  
Godric sat in the centre of the table that stretched the width of the Great Hall, watching a pair of children at the Gryffindor bench below as they passed something from one to the other with much whispering and glancing about. Whilst he should have probably intervened, his mind was dwelling on another subject, namely the events that had befallen his friend the night before. He spooned porridge into his mouth mechanically until Rowena nudged his arm gently to get his attention.

  
“Salazar showed me his vanishing cabinets - he brought them to my chambers last night. They are a marvel of magic, are they not?” her voice was low in his ear, her own eyes trained on her students before her. 

  
Godric shook his head and dropped his spoon into his bowl in disgust, his appetite gone, “Those things are a bloody menace. He could have killed himself.” 

  
“He seems more concerned with the loss of his familiar, he wanted my help to try and discover where he has sent her. He has left the cabinets with me to examine - it is not often he trusts me as he does you but he wishes me to check his calculations for errors. I shall do my best although that particular branch of magic is unfamiliar to me.” 

  
“Well if you should happen to break them in your examination, I shan’t be sorry.” 

  
“You are a good friend to him,” with her knowing stare that made his stomach squirm. 

  
A whimper emanated from a basket at Rowena’s side and with a smile, she lifted out her infant daughter, rocking and hushing her. Godric gazed out over the two dozen students hurrying through their breakfast before their day’s lesson’s had started. The pair had discarded whatever contraband they had been failing so miserably to hide, and were now preparing to leave, off to cause mischief no doubt. Still it would come to light soon enough if they were up to anything serious - for now he would let them have their fun.

He turned his head down the table to regard Salazar, sat next to the pretty, flaxen haired witch he had met in Hogsmeade when they had first been building the school and promptly married. Godric found her insipid and even Salazar seemed to make little effort to spend time with her but she appeared to care for him and acted capably as school matron for the children so she co-existed with the four fairly peaceably. If Salazar had to take a wife - and Godric failed to see why he needed to, for what could Salazar have been lacking for company as the four of them complemented each other so well – then she was as harmless as one might be. Rowena’s husband had moved out of the school in a fit of pique when he realised he was to have no say in the running of the school.

His heart sank to see Salazar still looking pale, his hand shaking visibly as he attempted to lift his goblet to his lips. Thin rivulets of water dripped down into Salazar’s long pointed black beard as he failed to hold the cup steady. Clearly the after effects of the incident were still ailing him. Fear – a rare visitor to Godric Gryffindor - crept into his chest and squeezed his heart with icy fingers.   

 

* * *

 

 Godric leaned his elbows on the oak table in the head’s office that they shared, and steepled his fingers, “There’s been four incidents in the last week alone. One of my students – young Osric in the second year – was doused in a tincture of bubotuber pus. He won’t name names but he is a muggle-born and it happened in a lesson he shares with your pupils Salazar,” he glared over at the head of Slytherin house, trying to meet his eyes under the dark hood that Salazar had taken to wearing in past weeks. 

  
It was one of the many changes that Godric had started to note, although it concerned him rather less than the anger that seemed to be growing inside his friend, which he particularly directed towards muggles. Many an evening of late he had cringed before Salazar as he ranted and frothed about the cankerous plague that was infesting the wizarding world, the backwards nature of muggles and their natural place under wizards. Worse than that, he was passing on his increasingly hostile views to his pupils – Godric himself had lurked in a corridor just the previous day to overhear him instructing his young wards on pureblood supremacy. Yet where his anger seemed to be growing, his physical presence seemed to be diminishing; he had started to develop a stoop that seemed to lower his stature and his features were masked in shadow. It was almost as though he were disappearing in upon himself. Godric had first attributed it to some lingering effect of his trip in the cabinet, then grief at the loss of his familiar. He had not found Kyra and yet often small snakes, mere fingerlings from the garden trailed in his wake to twine themselves about his feet if he tarried overlong. One such snakelet now played between his outstretched fingers.

“Well perhaps a line in the sand needs to be drawn. I have argued before that the children of muggles should not be allowed here – the danger is too great. What if their parents were to mention it to a neighbour? I for one refuse to teach them,” he rose out from his seat and banged his hand down on the table, making the snake start and slip up his sleeve. Godric saw the greenish tinge that affected his skin, the sores and scabs that marred it, and looked away from the indecent sight, “From this day on, I refuse to allow those muddy blooded whelps into my house.” 

  
“What’s come over you?” demanded Rowena

“Oh come on Rowena, surely you can’t disagree that some element of selection would improve the school?” Salazar was wheedling, persuasive now, his words slithering into the ears of the other heads to lay seeds in their hearts, “Why, it can’t have been more than three days since you were complaining about the dunderheads in your house, wasting the time of the other children.” 

  
Rowena faltered, “I only meant that some of them don’t want to learn – it’s disruptive. Of course I would rather not have that interruption.” 

  
And Godric, you can’t claim that there are some values that you value above others.‘Valour esteemed above all else' - is that not your motto?” 

  
Godric folded his arms over his chest and leaned back in his chair, scowling, “Well I’d certainly rather teach the braver students rather than those cowards who are scared of someone just because of who their parents are.” 

  
“Do I get a choice?” snapped the fourth founder, who up to that point had remained silent.

   
“If you wish,” Salazar inclined his head graciously towards Helga, his words ending in a sibilant hiss. 

  
“Well I want the dunderheads, the scared, the weak, the stupid. I want the muggle borns. Because I want to protect them from the three of you!” 

  
“Then we are agreed!” Salazar exclaimed, his voice triumphant. He extended his wand towards the middle of the table and Godric, glaring at his friend held his wand out in defiance to meet it. After a moment’s pause, Rowena’s walnut wood joined the pair. The three turned to look expectantly at Helga. 

  
“I pity the children. It is only for them I do this,” she sighed, shaking her head sorrowfully as she added her magic to the mix. As sparks flew from their conjoined wands, she could be heard muttering under her breath, “What has become of us?” before she swept from the room followed by Rowena, rolling her eyes in grimaced apology.

 "Helga's right, what has become of us - of you? I feel like we are all pulling in opposite directions and I fear for our happy unity. I fear for you!”

Salazar, who was draped over his chair, basking in the heat of the fire, waved his hand languidly, "Worry not for me. The vanishing cabinet has purified me – removed all of my failings and weaknesses that had been holding me back. I feel more alive," suddenly he snapped upright, training his gaze intently on his friend, "Join with me Godric, we can rule this place. Imagine what we could be together."

  Godric was unable to stem the flush that heated his cheeks, "That is not what I wish," he insisted, unable to look away from Salazar's hypnotic stare.  

Salazar smiled cruelly, "Do not lie to me. Legilimens."  

Unbidden, images swam hazily through Godric's mind - fancies he had created. To his horror, he found himself stiffening at the mere imagining of what the silky flesh of Salazar's cock would feel like in his mouth.   

"So that is what you desire," he hissed triumphantly, sliding out of the chair and moving to insinuate himself next to Godric, "And yet you fear it. You fear my rejection. Brave Sir Godric does feel fear after all."

  "You misunderstand. What you saw..."  

"I understand perfectly," Salazar squeezed Godric's erect flesh through his robes, eliciting a moan from him, "but if you will not rule with me, you must serve me," and with a flick of his wand he forced Godric over a wooden bench, his robes vanished away. Godric struggled but was unable to move more than an inch or two. 

  "Do not do this," Godric managed to grit out between his teeth even as the aching in his balls betrayed him. However, his words were for naught, for Salazar had positioned himself between his outstretched legs and begun working something slippery between the cheeks of his arse.  

"You will enjoy it the more if you relax," urged Salazar as he slipped one finger inside Godric's tightness and began working it back and forth before adding a second. At this Godric was unable to hold back a cry of pleasure and arched his back to allow Salazar better access. He felt something nudging at his entrance and leaned against it, allowing the head of Salazar's cock to enter him. At first there was nothing but a stretching burn but that soon gave way to pleasure as Salazar inched his way inside him, his hands brusingly tight at his hips. 

He barely had time to adjust to the feeling of fullness before Salazar began riding him roughly, drawing out and slamming back in again to hit a spot that made his mind go blank and would have made his legs give way, if the bench had not been supporting him. He was vaguely aware that he was issuing an incoherent stream of moans and begging, for more, for release, for Salazar to use him ever harder. Salazar reached underneath him and kneaded the painfully hard flesh of his cock and as he did so, something about the angle changed and his nerves caught alight and magic thundered in his veins and he spasmed around Salazar as pearly ribbons shot from his cock. Seconds later he felt Salazar empty himself into him, hissing under his breath. 

“The time to choose is coming, rule with me or be my slave,” Salazar repeated casually as Godric lay face down on the bench, panting and twitching with aftershocks from his climax. It was only when he heard the door slam shut that he realised Salazar was gone.   

 

* * *

  
 Godric had been pacing the corridors for the past hour, with no clear aim of his destination in mind, merely a surety of where he wanted to avoid. Rowena and Helga had cornered him earlier that afternoon and bid him to check on Salazar who had barely been seen in recent weeks, leaving the others to cover his classes and make excuses for him. Godric wondered if perhaps Salazar regretted what had happened between them and it was him he was avoiding. Shame at how he had come apart in the other man’s hands was certainly not hastening his steps towards his chamber.  

He walked past the door to Rowena’s chamber and noticed it was ajar, giving him pause, as he knew she had said she was due to be spending the day in the library. Nothing but silence emanated from the room and yet he hesitated in the doorway, feeling the vibrations of his sword against his thigh. Cautiously, using only the very tips of his fingers, as though that would make him somehow less culpable, he applied slight pressure to the door so that it swung inwardly open.  The house elf that served as nanny to young Helena was lying on her back on the floor, motionless, her large eyes closed. Godric was just kneeling to attend to her when he saw a movement in the shadows on the far side of the room. A dark figure was bent low over the crib, leaning close over the child.

  
 “Salazar?” Godric asked tentatively, not sure what purpose he had in the room, yet he didn’t know who else it could be. A wild thought entered his head that it could be the child’s father, come back to snatch her away but he was stout and fair, not tall and dark like this figure.  

Salazar – for it was he – straightened stiffly and spun round to the sound of Godric’s call. Afterwards, Godric told himself that he must have imagined what he had seen there, that it was a trick of the weak light. For how could a man unhinge his jaw and open his throat so wide that a small baby could easily fit into his mouth? Even when that gaping, drooling maw, beset with pointed teeth haunted his dreams, he told himself that it could not have been true. He blinked hard – a reflex action to the impossible tableau in front of him - and when he reopened his eyes, Salazar’s face was back to normal, his mouth a reasonable size.  

"What in Merlin’s name are you doing? Come away from the child!"

  "Stand down friend, for I am as bemused as you. I entered the room at the sound of the child crying and found the elf unconscious on the floor. I was merely attending to the baby to make sure no harm had come to it,” he sounded quite calm, although the way he caressed the baby's leg chilled Godric to the marrow.  

"Come away from it. Come away this instant."  

Salazar shot across the room with unnatural speed, "I know what you want, come back for more haven’t you."  

He pinned Godric to the door by the throat and although he knew he could have thrown him off, he felt as powerless as the baby lying in the crib. Salazar reached between the folds of Godric's robes, smirking cruelly to find him hardening against his touch. Taking him in hand roughly, he pumped back and forth, feeling the slip of pre-cum ease the motion. After an embarrassingly short time, Godric bit his lip to stifle a groan and painted thin streams of cum into Salazar's hand. His knees trembling, he rested his head on Salazar's shoulder and allowed the smaller man to pet his head like a child.  

The house elf began to stir, groaning and bringing her hand to her head.  

“Let us be gone,” Salazar whispered to Godric, "You don’t want to be caught like this do you?” and they slipped out of the door before she opened her eyes.

  “A close escape,” Salazar chuckled, laying his hand on his friend’s shoulder, once they were safely back out in the corridor as though they were pupils having got away with a prank.  

Godric brushed off his arm in disgust, “Don’t touch me. What are you?”  

“You weren’t complaining a moment ago,” then pressed his lips punishingly against Godric's.  

For a moment, Godric melted into it, wishing he could forget reality and just fall down into the kiss forever. But then he remembered, and pulled away, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand, “Is this real? Or is it just part of whatever’s wrong with you?”  

“There is nothing wrong with me! I am better than ever!” laughed Salazar, spinning in a circle, his arms outstretched.

  “You are not the man I have come to know. Not the man that I have come to…just stay away from the baby. If one hair on its head comes to be harmed I will swim through seas and dig through the bare rock of the mountains to track you down and see to it that you are punished,” Godric punctuated his words by jabbing his finger into Salazar’s chest.  

“So this is how it is to be then, is it? Friend turned foe. You have disappointed me, Gryffindor”

  “So it must be, I believe,” Godric agreed sadly, but he was talking to empty air, for Salazar had stalked away in disgust.  

 

* * *

 

  
 Salazar waited until the house elf that had drawn his bath had departed before he disrobed. He braced himself for the worst and came to stand in front of the mirror. Opening his eyes a crack, his fears were confirmed. Merlin and Morgana, he looked terrible. His skin was dry and scaly and despite daily baths and applications of scented oils, it felt tight and itchy. The only mercy was that the agony of the past few days had subsided – the internal tearing and wrenching that felt like his very organs were shifting and rearranging themselves inside him. He had confined himself to his quarters and lain in his sweat soaked sheets, screaming so hard that he thought his veins might burst. He had been sure he would die of it but eventually the pain had subsided and now he felt few after effects other than a shortness of breath. 

  
That was about all he could say to compliment his physical state, however. At the apex of his thighs, his legs seemed to be fusing together and his cock and balls had shrunk up inside him. His ribs, easily visible after days with only sips of water, seemed to be multiplying and extending further down his body. He scratched his back idly as he regarded the changes in himself. Suddenly, as the itching reached an unbearable crescendo, he felt the taut skin over his shoulder blades split and start to peel away. Instinctively he began to wriggle until a duplicate of himself, gossamer fine and translucent lay in a pile at his feet. He enjoyed the luxury of comfort, for just a few short moments before agony overtook him again, this time from the venomous acid that had filled his mouth, burning a bubbling path down his throat.

  
 He summoned the house elf who cringed at the sight of him, but he had no time to be concerned with the feelings of elves, “Fetch Godric,” he hissed. 

 

* * *

 

  Godric had not seen Salazar in the days that followed the strange series of events that occurred in Rowena’s bedchamber. In truth, he was dreading their next encounter and would have paid a great price to avoid it. However, when Salazar’s personal house elf had apparated into his classroom and told him that the master was sick and calling for him, he dismissed the class and was allowing the elf to spirit him away before the children had even put away their quills.  

The stench in the chamber was horrific, the putrid sweetness of rotting flesh. At first, Godric thought that he must be too late and looked to the elf for clarification but it had vanished again, keen to be away from the place, no doubt. After a moment, he heard a rustling in the bed, and hastened to Salazar’s side, but what he found there made him gasp aloud with horror and his hand extended of its own volition to point at the creature, for words failed him.

  “Godric, come closer,” Salazar rasped, reaching out to grip his wrist tightly.

Godric felt the roughness of the wasted hand against his skin, saw where the nails had dropped away and shuddered. Salazar’s eyes were covered in what looked like a hard scale, yet they were brighter yellow than his green gold eyes had ever been and the pupil looked like it had bled down the iris to form a black slit. Revulsion ripped through his body, chasing the last vestiges of desire and regard for the man and leaving only shame in its wake.

“You see what I have become – there is little time, but while I still have my wits about me, there is something you must know. Elwyn, my wife is with child. Even now she is smiling about growing fat with it. I have sent her away, back to the village. She must not see me like this. I fear now that this sickness may overcome me.”  

“Nonsense Salazar, you are in the prime of your life,” he tried to stop the tremor in his voice.

  “That old joke will do little to pacify me now. It is you, Godric that is shining and golden with life. I am wasted and lost, dark behind the shadow of the veil. Death will come calling for me soon, I hope. But Godric, the child. If the child bears any sign of this sickness you know what you must do.”

  “You ask too much. Harm a babe? Could there be an act more hateful?”  

“For you to do it, I know would not be an act of hate, but love,” and this time when he took Godric’s hand, it was not to grasp but to caress, and this time Godric did not pull away, “It would not be harming a child, it would be saving it. Look at me, more demon than man, who could wish this on a child?” he pushed his hood back fully to reveal his face in all its awesome horror.  

Godric cringed back against the wall at the transformation that had overtaken Salazar: his hair, so thick and dark previously, was gone save for a few greasy strands laid flat to his head. His ears seemed to have disappeared altogether, leaving mere holes in the side of his head where once they had resided. Whereas much of his body had wasted away, particularly his arms and legs, which looked little more than empty tubes, his neck had swollen grossly until there seemed to be nothing between his face and his shoulders. The small patches of skin that were not scaled over were waxy and bloodless, dying away.  

At last Godric understood, “The cabinets…the snake…” was all he was able to utter, in a broken whisper.  

Salazar nodded and opened his mouth to speak but his lips pulled back to reveal row after row of elongated fangs and the noise that issued from his throat was a harsh, guttural hissing.

  “What ails you friend? Tell me how to ease your suffering.”

 Salazar clutched his throat, bubbles frothing from his mouth as he struggled to regain his speech, “Get out, fool!” he screamed, black veins spreading from around his eyes and splintering across his visage, “Run and lock the door behind you! The demon has come!”

  Godric took one step back, then two, unsure of a course of action. He was prepared to stay and face whatever may be coming but should it defeat him, the other inhabitants of the school would be unprotected and unprepared for the horror that would surely be unleashed upon them. In the end that was what made his decision and he scrambled up the ladder out of Salazar’s chamber.

However, it was too late and before he was able to seal the well closed again behind him, Salazar was out and into the antechamber with him, his wand outstretched and his yellow eyes glowing and bulging out of his head maniacally.

  
 Salazar seemed to have lost the ability of human speech, however this didn’t seem to impede his spell casting, as he threw a hex that caught Godric at the temple, making stars fade in and out of his vision. 

  
Godric, knowing that Salazar outclassed him at duelling, knew that he had to end this quickly. molten metal poured from his wand to encase Salazar in an armoured coffin but Salazar transfigured the metal into glass, which then exploded, showering Godric with shards that cut painfully into his skin. Before Godric could recover from the onslaught Salazar had sent forth dozens of tiny snakes of fire that danced about the room, biting at any part of Godric they could reach. Godric lifted his wand and turned the flaming beasts to cold ash, although his hand was so burned his wand dropped uselessly to the floor, rolling away into a corner. 

  
Salazar threw back his head and laughed, a terrible grinding hiss, accompanied by much gnashing of his teeth, and raised his wand to deliver the death blow.

Godric unsheathed his great sword, his hand gripping tightly onto the ruby encrusted handle. He swung wildly, half hoping to miss but knowing he must strike true. The blade sang through the air in a slash of silver, Salazar cried out and his wand arm fell to the floor, severed. It lay rubbery and lifeless between them, looking more like an artifice than flesh and bone. For a second, both men did nothing but stare at it, aghast.  With an anguished roar of pain, Salazar charged towards Godric, his magic forgotten but even as he took the first steps, his body seemed to fail him. The scream gave way to harsh hissing and his legs seemed to buckle under him. Yet even as he fell, instead of tumbling downwards, his upper body - the tapered head, the great wide neck, the elongated torso seemed to rise up. With a sickening sound of tearing flesh, the parts of Salazar that remained man separated from the reptilian monster that he had become. 

  
The great snake reared up out of the crumpled remains of Salazar Slytherin’s human form. Godric, sickened to the depths of his belly, didn’t dare look. Afterwards, he hated himself for his cowardice but he couldn’t look up the face of the demon who had once been his friend. As the snake lunged for him, Godric held his nerve until he could feel the foul breath of the beast on his face, before he twisted out of the way. The snake had nowhere to go but down the well in the centre of the floor and as it tried ineffectively to rear its way back out, Godric gathered up coils of its body and stuffed them down into the hole. When the entirety of the beast was sliding down towards Salazar’s chambers, Godric pressed his wand to the stone surround of the well and sealed it shut.    

* * *

 

  Godric crouched down on his haunches, his hands pressed tightly over his face, his sword and wand discarded in the dust at his feet. Grief wracked his body, escaping in silent heaving sobs and tears that slipped from under his tightly closed lids and pooled in his palms. He dared not remove his hands and see the blood, the remains of the man he loved so dearly, gone forever. He stayed like that for how long he knew not, until his muscles were cramping and burning, begging for him to move. With great shuddering breaths, he removed his hands to regard the horror.

The antechamber was in a terrible disarray – a tapestry smouldered on its hangings, the floor was stirred up with great the prints of great coils lashed over the room, pools of blood lay about, yet Godric only saw the crumpled heap in the corner.  

Wearily he reached for his wand and began to repair the damage. He righted chairs, scourgified the entire chamber and vanished the glass that lay about.

He was just trying to summon his courage to accompany him while he disposed of the remains when he caught sight of something glinting in the dirt of the floor. The gold chain and locket that Salazar carried around his neck at all times. Godric’s violently shaking hands and large digits made it a struggle for him to undo the delicate clasp but eventually he managed it and the small golden locket opened to reveal a tiny portrait of Salazar and himself, arms tightly around each others shoulders. He had never posed for it – he supposed Salazar must have painted it from memory, the very thought of which caused fresh tears to leak down his cheeks.  

Moaning lowly and retching all the while, he transfigured Salazar’s severed arm, wand still in his lifeless hand, into a golden chain and the rest of his remains into a duplicate locket. He then wiped clean the portrait from the original. This he would give to his wife as proof he had abandoned her. The duplicate, he fastened around his neck, making sure it was well hidden by his robes. As it settled on his chest, it felt warm, rather than cold like metal.

Lastly, he cast every locking charm, notice me not spell and silencing spell that he knew over the well. He despised his own cowardice that he couldn’t bring himself to kill the beast and instead was leaving the danger buried deep within the castle but somewhere in that monster, Salazar’s heart beat and Godric couldn’t bring himself to extinguish it.  

Feeling like his heart was breaking, actually fracturing down its facets and withering within his chest, he realised that he would never be able to tell anyone the truth of what had happened here, that he would have to lie to his comrades and make them grow to hate their former friend for deserting them. And if the time came, and his child bore the signs of the same sickness that had overtaken his father, then he would honour his memory and his hand would not falter in carrying out the man’s last wish and the truth of that too, he would carry to his grave. Salazar’s chamber would hold the secret forever.     


End file.
